


Plato's Closet

by ForevermoreNevermore



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Female Derek Hale, Female Stiles Stilinski, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pixies, Rule 63, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForevermoreNevermore/pseuds/ForevermoreNevermore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up early is one thing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plato's Closet

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo... this is kind of a wierd little thing, and I've always wanted to do one of these. Though it doesn't feel like one, it was really fun to write. And, as usual, Derek's just plain hard to write. Fun... but hard. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it and thank you for reading!

Nothing worse than going to sleep groggy, only to wake up groggy. But, after the night they had, Stiles supposed it could've been worse. He groaned, twisted his legs in his bedspread, and flipped himself over to hide from the sun. Hair covered his face.

_Hair covered his-_

Stiles let out a scream and arched out of his bed, head snapping back to see what the _fuck_ was in the bed with him (it said something that his first guess was 'what' and not 'who'). The hair followed the toss of his head, tickling the nape of his neck. He swatted ineffectually at it, shuddering and letting out a steadily growing "aa-aahhha-aaa-"

Bedspread successfully tangled in his legs, Stiles tumbled off of the bed and slammed his head down onto the ground. There was no purchase to be had and Stiles just barely made it into his bathroom standing. He flipped on the lights with a flail, expecting something like a hairy snake to be clinging along his spine. It's not what he saw. It's not what he saw at all. 

Stiles let out a scream that sounded like Charlie Brown getting kicked in the balls, and looked down. Yup, the mirror wasn't lying. There were- and less... but also more...?

Stiles let out another scream. His legs hadn't even changed with his gender and that probably shouldn't have been what disturbed him the most. Something slammed by his window, and he turned to see a woman glowering on the other side of his bed, lips turned down in an expression he'd only seen on-

The eyebrows.

Stiles let out one last scream and slammed his bathroom door closed.

He could hear his father running up the stairs, about to burst into his bedroom. Oh God, oh God, ohGod... 

He hoped Derek could still fit under the bed with-

_Oh my God._

"Stiles!" His dad shouted, slamming his bedroom door into the wall. The footsteps thudded up to the bathroom door and he tried the door. It jiggled and Stiles swallowed. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah dad!" Stiles recoiled from his own voice, not recognizing the rise in octaves. He gave a cough and dug up from his stomach. "Just found a spider." He threw his body wash at the wall in his shower and it hit with a wet slam, clattering into the tub. "Got it."

"Must've been some big spider." he muttered. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, perfect." Footsteps left his room. Stiles gave it a bit of a leeway before creaking open the door to check and see it- yup, still looked like a model.

"Derek?" he asked, just to be sure. The glower he got in return proved it without a single doubt. It was the same one he'd gotten at the title 'Miguel'. He slid out of the small opening into his room and tried for levity.

"Well, I guess we got the prize." The glower was still there. The glower that cursed pixies and cursed Stiles and cursed the bedspread because there didn't seem to be enough cursing and spells going on around there. 

Stiles waved a hand at his head. "C'mon mister gloom and doom, cheer up. You still look like a model." And it was true. Dark curtain of hair, skin that was actually friends with the sun, cheekbones.

Derek stood up from the bed and Stiles swallowed because, well, it still looked like he could crush a watermelon in one hand. And he towered, not saying anything, just wide-eyed and intimidating as if to tell Stiles that he better fix this because, somehow, luck not being on their side was totally his fault. 

"Wow, is it getting hot in here, or is it getting hot in here?" Stiles fumbled for the bottom of his shirt and it was like someone had flipped Derek's switch. He snapped out a hand and grasped at the side of Stiles' shirt.

"You can't walk around shirtless anymore." He said, with some strange sort of urgency.

Stiles frowned and smacked his hand away because, _rude_. "Fuck the patriarchy." But the shirt stayed on nonetheless because Derek was staring at him with that strange 'smolder' thing that he probably didn't even know he could do because he did it _constantly_ and he didn't like that look with his shirt on so he knew he wouldn't like it when it was off and it wasn't like he was self-conscious, but he was totally self-conscious. 

Derek returned to sitting and had settled on a facial expression somehow mixing 'angry' and 'confused'. Stiles sat beside him, putting about a foot between them, and attempted the same expression. Derek noticed, according to the odd eyebrow quirk he got, but didn't say anything about it.

Instead, Stiles got a "how are you going to go to school?"

For a thunder-strike's span of a moment Stiles almost threw himself out of the window. Then, "It's Sunday." Derek rolled his eyes and huffed.

"Okay. The question remains."

"Nu-uh, because we're going to figure out how to get back to our manly selves by then." Stiles couldn't tell if Derek wanted to shot down the 'we' or the plural 'selves', but he wasn't given the chance for either. "Somehow. And probably with a lot of help and hijinks." Because, lets face it, Stiles' life had turned into a Scooby-Doo episode. A little late considering that was a Christmas wish from the third grade.

"Hijinks?" Derek echoed, not as derisively as Stiles figured he would. It seemed more like he was actually thinking about it. Minus the scowl. 

"Well, that is kind of the reason we're in this mess. Pixies are the more mayhem and hijinks kinda things." 

Derek nodded and stood, glancing down at Stiles. "We should probably go see if they're there first, then." 

"Uh, you mind if I get dressed first?" Stiles gestured down at his sleep-wrinkled clothes and then looked at Derek expectantly. He got a 'you're an idiot' look for his troubles and Derek disappeared out the window. 

Stiles took a moment to lament that Derek still had a great ass, then turned his woes to the sixties shag on his head. Cut ragged at his jawline and everything. He looked like a fairy. He _still_ looked like a fairy. At least his clothes still fit.

Stiles very nearly traipsed down the stairs and into his house before remembering that his dad was down there somewhere and would probably think that, quite possibly, something was up if his son was suddenly an arachnaphobic female. So he ground his teeth, prayed to God for good luck and stared down his window. 

"Now look here window. You and me are going to have to work together for a day. Just for today, and you never have to like me again. But please, oh God please, don't let me die this day." And he swung his leg over the edge, dropped down so he was holding on by his fingers, and fell into a bush.

After a fit and a fight with the asshole bush, Stiles rolled away from the greenery a tad bit worse for the wear to see that the only car in the visible distance was that sleek black Camaro. His dad's car was gone. Derek had never looked more amused in his life.

"You could've told me I didn't have to do that, asshole." Stiles shouted, brushing the small scratches on the back of his legs and arms, fingers coated with an already dried and very thin layer of blood. He was in no immediate danger unless the answer the answer to their problem was in a salt factory.

Derek still had that smirk/smile when Stiles stumbled to meet him. 

"Would you have been able to pull yourself back into the window?" Derek's mouth widened into an even more wicked smirk at Stiles' stuttered into silence before he turned on his heel and headed for the road. "We'll take my car this time."

Good. Waste his gas.

________________

There was a table in the middle of the forest surrounded by half-mutated, lumpy things with teeth and that _still_ wasn't the strangest thing Stiles had seen in those trees. There are seven empty chairs amongst the middle of them.

The biggest lump at the far end of the table stood up, pointy head held at a level that Stiles could only think of as regal. Also the crown was a big tip-off. 

"To negotiate our surrender!" And every pixie raised their cups with a 'hurrah', obviously drunk past the point of surrender. Derek was obviously caught on unawares, if the shocked snuffle he made was any indication. Jovial little fellas. 

A handful of the humanoid things ushered them to the empty chairs, and everyone was just a bit too dazed to do anything but stumble along. They'd expected a bloody battle, all snarling teeth and, uh, fur flying.

They attempted to put Stiles in the odd chair out, by a rather dangerous looking pixie, but Scott snapped and took the seat, shoving him one chair over amongst the pack. When the pixie tried to do something Scott growled that territorial little growl he had. The pixie on the other side of him looked put out, but returned to its lilting conversation.

"Thanks," Stiles muttered. Scott nodded and his nose scrunched up a moment before a cup was put in front of him. A domino effect of cups were placed down the table in front of the pack and they all lasered in on the contents. Stiles glanced up to see Derek directly across from him, glaring and sniffing at the drink.

"Fear not! There is no poison in those drinks! But two of them," the king stopped for a royal laugh, "two of them have a prize in them."  

Erica's face smashed into something that said she probably wouldn't appreciate their kind of prize. Boyd, however, seemed to have the same attitude with this as he did with most things. He lifted his glass and motioned at Erica with it, a toast.

"Might as well." He said, before slamming it back. 

Stiles eyed his with a bit more uneasiness. Of course, there were less things that could poison him, but there were also about a hundred things more that could kill him. Like microbes. And arrows. And-

Scott elbowed him, jerking him out of his thoughts. He motioned with his eyebrows at the pixies. Stiles saw them glaring at him, and in turn his glass.

He gave an awkward chuckle and picked it up. "Bottoms up?" And he drank it back. 'It' tasted suspiciously with maple syrup mixed with a strawberry smoothie, and it had him smacking his lips when he was done. "Huh." 

A clap drew him from his thoughts with a jerk, and he saw the king beaming from his spot.

"And the ceremony ends!" With a flash of glitter, the pixies disappeared. And by pixies, he meant the table and the cups and the _chairs_. Stiles landed on his tailbone with a curse, and it turned out he's the only one who actually landed. 

Over the snickers of the pack, Stiles heard Erica. "And that's why I'm Catwoman and you're not."

_____________________

They hit a bump and Stiles half hoped it had been a pixie. 

"Do you really think that they're still going to be there after their little glitter show?" Stiles waggled his fingers in the air, universal for sparkle.

Derek just shrugged and pressed a little harder on the gas. The car grumbled and shot off, making Stiles grateful that the seats were comfortable so that when his head was slammed back it didn't hurt that much. Leather was a friend. In perhaps more ways then one but Stiles was a growing boy, kinks would come and go. 

"I think they'd hang around to see their prank come to fruition."

It seemed legit, but it also seemed a little blurry. Like looking through the bottom of a glass bottle. "But they didn't really seem like they thought it was a prank. It seemed more like they legitimately thought they were giving us a gift."

"How could you tell?" Stiles barked out a laugh despite himself, earning 'the eyebrows' from tall, dark, and broody. 

"Touché."

They skidded by the free dirt of the forest, and Derek barely missed a tree. Stiles tried to hide his wince, it was a pretty car. Its paint would be severely missed. Derek parked far enough from the road that there was no way a car could hit it without purposeful and malicious intent. 

Stiles' first instinct was to ask how they were going to find the spot again, but then he remembered just who he was walking with and promptly shut his trap and followed the werewolf into the trees. 

"What exactly do pixies smell like?" Stiles asked, sniffing the air to see if he could find anything out of place. Derek didn't skip a beat.

"Maple syrup." Stiles thought about what he drank last night and felt a little sick. 

"What exactly did they serve us?" He asked, stepping over a fallen branch. Derek literally walked through it. 

The shake of his head was not reassuring in the least. "Some questions aren't meant to be asked." 

Oh God.

They stepped into a clearing that Stiles recognized, and Derek held out a hand for him to stop. He slowly wound his way around the outer edge of the trees, staring blankly towards the forest. Stiles mainly just admired how good cleaners they were. Not a piece of glitter in sight. And glitter was... glitter was impossible. 

Derek stopped in on the other side of Stiles and let waves of hate out into the atmosphere. 

"I can't smell them anywhere else but here. No trails. No nothing." 

"So I guess they were honest about surrendering." Stiles felt the glare in his spleen. "Geeze, shit, I was just pointing out a plus." 

"A plus? Stiles, we're not even ourselves!"

Stiles scoffed. "You're only mad because you already turn into something cool. I think it'd be awesome to turn into a woman once a month. I could be a were woman, and every full moon I'd turn into a crime fighter with sexy legs and a mean left hook." 

Derek looked baffled. "But your legs didn't change-" Stiles was about to agree, but instead his jaw dropped and he just stared. Or he tried to, Derek had already snapped his teeth and turned back towards his car. 

"Wait, what? You noticed- you were looking...?" But Derek wasn't listening. Was walking, though, and Stiles had to give an awkward skip to catch up. "Where are we going?" 

"Deaton." Of course. Stiles has no idea why he didn't think of it. That vet could fix everything. Kinda shifty, but everyone in this town is shifty. 

"Aww, but I kinda like being like this. I mean, lets face it, I was born from a drawing board."

"Maybe for Howdy Doody." 

"Howdy- Howdy Doody? What are you, fifty? My God man..." And Stiles laughed. "Just admit it, I'm as good looking a woman as I am a man. The hair could use some work though."

Derek gave a small shrug, hair brushing and unfolding with the motion. "What's wrong with short hair?"

"Says Rapunzel." Stiles poked, nose crinkling to keep in a laugh. Derek turned to look at him with something akin to exasperation, but it could've just as easily been fondness. Coincidentally the same thing he tells himself with most of his teachers.  

"If I remember correctly, and I do, Rapunzel ended that movie with short hair not unlike-"

"Dude no! I'm so not a Disney Princess. And if I was I would be totally be Mula- nope not going there either today." Derek's smile stretched.

The car doors closed with sturdy slams of leather against leather over plastic. 

Stiles leaned over the arm rest and into Derek's bubble, but he didn't back away. "So we agree, I'm Ariel and you're Mulan."

Derek nodded solemnly, like it was the most important batch of information ever passed between two persons. "And just so you know, I'm not letting go that crack about the Dobermen."

"N'awwww," Stiles snarked, leaning comfortably down into his seat as the car rumbled. "I think I'd make a cute Oliver."

Derek shook his head lightly and muttered under his breath. "Could've said Dodger." 

" _Could've_ said Georgette. But none of those guys are princesses so the point is moot." Derek grumbled in agreement and wasn't that just the strangest conversation he'd ever had? Didn't even realize just how strange it was until they were zooming towards the vet's office. Of course, Stiles knew that everyone had seen the Disney movies. Stiles also knew that not everyone retained information like a sponge. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, Stiles valued his life more than that to ask. 

"So, what do you think the cure's going to be? You think we'll have to drag the pixies back to town?" Stiles asked, fingers following the thick threading along the edge of his seat. 

"If we do it won't be easy." Derek admitted grudgingly. "Pixies don't usually do what they don't want to do." Which would explain the sour expression on his face throughout the whole celebration. As for all the other days.

"You were angry that they left because they wanted to and not because you pushed them out, weren't you?" Stiles barked, as one does with a new revelation. Derek straightened and pinched his face up.

"No. I was just glad they left without much problem." Which was Derek for 'yes I was, but shut up Stiles or I'll punch you through a meat grinder'. Stiles smashed his laughter into a wide smile and attempted to look out the window to avoid Derek seeing. Derek totally knew it. "You little shit."

Luckily, the office was empty. Unfortunately, Stiles remembered who was working.

"Hey Stiles, what are you-" And Scott popped out from back, grin dropping as soon as they came into vision. The poor guy's nostrils flared, as if desperately clamoring as to _why_ it smelt like Stiles, but there was no Stiles. He could see Scott's brain running around a closed loop of hurdles, and finally his foot caught the edge of one and splatted down on the mat. 

"Pixies." Derek offered.

"Pixies?" Like Scott had forgotten what they had just done last night. Wide-eyed he glanced between the two of them, then his jaw dropped and he echoed himself. "Pixies."

Then the laughter came. The gut-grabbing, tear-prompting, someone-will-probably-kill-him-for-it-later kind.

"Dude, at least your pretty."

Stiles rolled his eyes and pushed his way back. "Oooh, I'm telling Allison." Then before Scott could beg for mercy. "What do you mean? I was always pretty!"

But there was no support for Stiles.

"Damn, you guys suck."

They rounded the corner into the back room, and Deaton didn't look up from the small Cocker Spaniel laid out on the metal slab. It glanced at Derek with big brown eyes.

"Well, what can I-" He looked. Oh he looked. He looked and he blinked and he patted the dog as if for some sort of grounding. 

"Pixies?"

"Pixies." And hadn't they had this conversation before.

"So, how exactly did this come about?" Deaton asked, as calm as usual with just a hint of smile mixed in. 

"They wanted to surrender. So they threw us a party. The king said-"

"King?" Deaton looked taken aback. He glanced at the other two, to see if their take was any different. "There are no male pixies." 

"Oh." Stiles answered. It sort of made a little more sense now. "Well... then... the Queen," Stiles ammended, "offered us some sort of drink and said there was a prize in two of them." Then Stiles gestured to Derek with a mad flick of his hand. See? Prize. Model. She-Derek. Sherek.

Deaton hummed something in the back of his throat, and went back to the dog. Scott rubbed a hand in one of its floppy ears and his veins pulsed black for a second. As cool as it was, it was still pretty gross looking. 

"She specifically said prize, right?"  Stiles nodded, then answered aloud because Deaton was paying absolutely zero attention to him. Could've been rude, but it could also be a good thing. If the answer was something so off-hand as it seemed then it was going to be no problem.

Or it could be just _horribly and nightmarishly bad._

"Pixies are a peculiar bunch. They have fixations with fairy tales, hence the ceremony and the... I'm sure there was glitter. And their actions are separated into two different categories. Spells and curses. Spells are gifts, and curses are self-explanatory." He looked up then, one of his eyebrows slightly raised. He glanced at Scott, Stiles, and Derek in turn, as it to make sure everyone was on the same page. Then he was back to the dog. "As you can imagine, the way to break either one of those things is rooted in some sort of lore. Seeing as this is a spell, and therefore a good thing, how do most fairytales end if they're uplifting? What is the happy ending?"

"Well, none of us have any stepsisters who's feet we can cut off." But even as he said it, Stiles knew. He knew, and if the sinking feeling around the room that matched the one in his stomach was anything to go by, then everyone else was privy as well. 

Deaton laughed though, and eyed him skeptically. "True love's kiss." 

Oh fuck it. 

"You know, Scott, if you would've let me sit next to that insanely creepy and quite possibly dangerous pixie you could've just gone and smooched Allison and all would be fixed."

Scott seemed to perk up at the thought.

"No." Deaton cut in, voice holding some bridled back mirth. Stiles wordlessly thanked him for at least trying. "As much as it may not seem like it, pixies are not creatures that rely on luck or coincidence. They may be wishy-washy and fickle, but when they want to do something..." He gestured to Stiles, then to Derek, and quickly ducked his head. Stiles saw his shoulders shake. 

So essentially, it was tough luck Stiles. Oh well, it could be worse. He could've been turned into Jackson.

Derek was a wall of silence to his right, glaring down at the defenseless Cocker Spaniel (named Puggers if the paper off to the side had anything to do with it).  

"That's it? That's the only answer there is?" Derek hissed. Deaton had no shame, and he was full on grinning.

"If I know anything about true love and fairy tales, it's this. True love is an internal thing, always there. Like a little seed just waiting to be tossed into soil and allowed to grow. Plato's philosophy on soul mates. Just two people who are meant to be one, and will find each other. Just because it's not fully bloomed yet, doesn't mean it's not there." Puggers gave a small yap and wriggled on the table, prompting Deaton to put a calming hand on its head. Then he glanced up at Derek and gave him a critical look. "Just something to think on. Instinct is everything."

Derek's face remained impassive as he thanked the vet. Deaton nodded. Derek was the first to turn and leave, prompting Stiles to quickly turn after him.

"Good luck, Stiles." Deaton said to his back, but when Stiles turned to comment he was paying him no mind. Stiles glanced to Scott for an answer, but he just shrugged.

"Good luck." Scott offered as more of an echo of an answer, then good luck itself. Stiles lamented his life and exited the office, hoping Derek hadn't skidded off without him. 

The fact that he hadn't was a miracle in itself. Stiles was mentally halfway through a smart ass comment before he realized that looking a gift wolf in the mouth would get him bitten. Mauled. 

Commander Eyebrows was staring manically at the gravel. Stiles sidled up beside him, leaned in close, and whispered conspiratorially, "the gravel can't help you now, Derek."

Derek turned his head slowly, eyebrows climbing higher with each second. Stiles blinked dumbly. His tongue felt like lead, but apparently nothing helps lead tongue like a foot.

"So... true love?"

Derek swiped Stiles by the shirt, jerking him in and for a heart-stopping second Stiles thought that he was actually going to maul him. But it was looking more and more like the target was his mouth and Stiles panicked.

A flail of hands and Stiles had Derek held at bay by just a few scant inches. Muscles bunched under his fingers. He could feel the breath on his face, see the flecks in his eyes. Eyes that were very much the same, no matter which gender. Could see the bulk of Derek under the guise of female. Jaw working as his eyes were searching. 

"What-"

"Instincts." Derek growled, voice a low, sensual slide. Stiles felt the grit in the rumble down his spine. Then Derek brushed aside Stiles' hands and finished the curve in for the kiss.

Something detonated at the base of Stiles' neck, and he probably should've been worried about that. Should've been worried about many, many things at the moment, but, oh what a shame. Couldn't think of a damn thing other than a one line marathon of holyhellholyhellholyhellholyhell...

Then it was done and Derek backed away, but not quite before Stiles felt the rasp of a five o'clock shadow. Stiles blinked up at the Derek, now all male and ripply, and Derek blinked back. There was a weight between them, settling over a moment still in the process of passing. But of course...

"Huh..." Stiles said, then smiled anyway. "You want a Cinderella wedding or more a Princess and the Frog kinda thing?"

Derek arched an eyebrow, something devious snapping across his face, then dropped Stiles like a sack of flour. 


End file.
